


Wild

by stringsofwords09



Category: Reign (TV)
Genre: F/M, Mystery, Suspense, fun flirting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-30
Updated: 2013-12-30
Packaged: 2018-01-06 18:16:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,920
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1110037
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stringsofwords09/pseuds/stringsofwords09
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>a different telling of the scene where Mary runs after Starling.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Wild

**Author's Note:**

> It occurred to me to put the original prompt when I post here, so here it is: _Okay so you know how Mary was chasing Stirling to get him back, in the first ep, and then bash intervenes and stops her? What about if Mary had actually ran into the woods and bash then followed her, trying to save her??_

“You may be the bastard brother,” commented the shipbuilder, “but you’re older and more prudent.” His eyes darted back and forth. He leaned his head in close, to avoid nosy bystanders, and whispered “if it was ever up to a vote, you can bet my entire orchard, I’d pick _you._ ” 

Sebastian smiled politely, patiently waiting for his change with his palm floating under the short man’s face. His hand was starting to cramp. “And I make my entire living off those mighty oaks, building our French King the finest of warships.” He stroked his beard thoughtfully. “He is a shrewd man, sending a cunning lad like yourself to deal with such matters, Sebastian! Reminds me of myself when I was your age…” He bowed dramatically, and Bash felt his smile start to grow rather thin. 

But the clerk finally noticed the outstretched palm, and hurriedly handed over a few coins. “You tell that father of yours, this wood grew off the blood of our fallen men. Our ships will sail as never before. Good day, gentlemen!” 

“Blubbering fool,” Bash muttered under his breath to the other men as they walked away. “He spins Charles the same story, always hoping for a bigger tip. Well, maybe he shouldn’t charge so much for those damn splinters.” 

“Always the astute young chap, I see. Still, there’s nothing of Francis’s title you’re jealous of?” the young servant accompanying him asked with a laugh. “Surely you’ve spotted his newest playmate? The little queen… Well, it’s a nice change from Catherine, between you and me.” The lad gave a goofy grin, and Bash barked out an appreciative laugh. His brother could keep his crown. And if Mary was even remotely like his father’s wife, he knew they would never get along. 

They rode back to the castle at a fair pace, but not too quickly. Sebastian enjoyed taking in the route on the way back from town. He urged the men ahead, and only his main guards remained behind with him. “I’ll say, what do we have here?” 

Bash looked up to see what the servant was talking about. He spotted a girl, alone and without guard, sitting on the grounds without a care in the world. Who would stroll casually like this near the woods? He nudged his horse to get a better look. It was Mary, he realized with a surprise. “Is that safe for her now?” the guard asked. 

Bash shrugged. Perhaps the wedding tonight was giving her cold feet for her own nuptials. He wondered if she knew Francis felt the same. He continued on toward the castle, eager for the warmth of his bed, when suddenly the Scot took off into a run. 

“Starling!” she called, as an ugly dog ran ahead of her. “Starling, come back!” What was she doing? Bash watched in horror as the little queen scurried after her dumb dog, heading directly into the forest. He groaned, and turned his horse around. “Go on ahead,” he urged the other men, and followed after her. “Stupid animal,” he cursed. 

Goddamit. Why was she alone? “Mary!” he yelled after to her, to no response. Where were her usual twittering ladies, anyway? If the pagans got their hands on her now… Sebastian had no choice, but to follow her inside. And pray she would not be harmed. 

\--

Mary ran, paying no mind to the men calling after her. She wasn’t used to royal protection, but were they always this nervous? And besides, couldn’t they see her dog had ran away? She sprinted forward, and soon found herself in a dense wood. 

She had lost her head, and ran after her pet. It was unlike her, but Francis has set her off. Concern for the animal was all she could focus on now, so much so that she didn’t notice how dark it got in these woods. The trees were very thick, and only small patches of light trickled in. Mary wished she had a light of some sort. Starling could not have gone far… 

“Starling!” she called out, “Starling!” 

But she couldn’t hear his usual panting. Mary slowed down, listening to the forest, hoping to find a clue. Why had he taken off so suddenly? Was something lurking here, something dangerous, that attracted the dog? The woods were nothing like this when she was a child, so ominous and foreboding. She sniffed the air suspiciously. There was a strange odor abound. 

Now she was afraid. 

Mary turned back to where she had come from, but there were too many trees obscuring the path. Thinner branches swayed lightly in the wind, as if waving to taunt her, while the thick ones were gnarled into menacing shapes. They cast shadows on the ground, even in this badly lit wood. She looked ahead hesitantly. There was a bizarre aura as the trees got thicker. Almost as though she was being watched. If she squinted, it seemed like hooded figures sat far, far ahead. And did she hear whispers now? 

She turned swiftly at the murmurs, and tripped over a thick root, landing on her hands. Slowly, she stood and examined herself. Was that blood on her dress? She looked around. At the base of an old tree stump where she fell, Mary spotted drops of blood. She covered her mouth, to stifle her scream. Was it human? If there was anyone skulking about, they would of heard her by now. 

“Starling?” she said again, but in a lower voice. She would give anything, to have the loyal dog at her side for protection. Instead, she was left out here alone and vulnerable. But she didn’t have to remain that way. She looked around for something, anything that could be used as a makeshift weapon. A tree branch was too thin, but a rock might work. She tread carefully in her search, afraid to make the slightest sound. She finally found a sharp one with a round base. Mary gripped it tightly, and pulled her shawl tightly against her chest. 

She jumped as the snap of a tree branch exploded behind her. She whirled around, her weapon raised, and ready to strike. 

\--

Bash walked rapidly through the woods, his sword drawn, searching for his brother’s betrothed. He dare not yell out, lest an unseen foe hear him. How far could a girl in a dress and uncomfortable shoes get?

He followed her obvious trail of broken twigs and snapped, low hanging branches. She would not win the medal for Stealthiest Lady of France. _Or most levelheaded,_ he decided as well, in afterthought. 

He heard a sharp yelp, a lady in distress, and sped up. Soon, he happened upon his prize, the Scottish queen hunched under a tree, a determined look on her face, her fists tightly clenched. She was unharmed, thankfully. She was scanning the ground closely, and quickly scooped up something into her hands. He moved toward her, stepping down hard on an old tree branch, and it broke. Mary shrieked, turning on him with her hand in the air, apparently to stab him with a rock. 

“Whoa! Mary! I’m not going to hurt you.” 

“Sebastian!” the queen yelped, as he reached out to grab her wrist. The rock fell out of her hands, but Bash caught it. “What would you have done with this?” he asked, raising it up and chuckling. He still held her by the arm. He looked her over, her ripped dress and tangled hair, and found he liked what he saw. 

He could almost hear her heart pounding. “Why would you sneak up on me like that!” she snapped. “You frightened me half to death!”

“I was not sneaking up on you,” he responded, now annoyed. “I was coming to find you, after you ran into this vile wood!” 

“I don’t need to be rescued,” she replied furiously. 

She had very pretty eyes, he noted, a chocolate brown that went well with her soft, white skin. The color had drained from her face when she first lunged, but it was slowly returning. Francis was a lucky man. 

“Alright,” he told her, “I’ll be on my merry way, then.” He let go of her. “And leave you here. Does that sound appealing?” He began to turn away. 

“No, Bash, wait…” 

He looked back at her, as she took a step after him, and smiled. Mary studied him. His hair, dark, was cut short, but it was shaggy and endearing. It was not the typical French style. When he glanced at her now, with that smug grin, she felt exposed, as though his green globes pierced right into her. 

“You need me to lead you home,” he said. “Back to the castle where you belong.” 

“Right,” Mary said miserably, taking another step toward him. Images of Francis sprang to her mind. 

What was wrong, he couldn’t help but wonder. Was she really upset at the notion of leaving this dreadful place. She had blood on her dress! And if she only knew who was watching them… “There’s food and warmth,” he said gently now, “who wouldn’t want to be at the castle?” 

She looked down, her eyes sad. Bash craved even a hint of a smile. “Except perhaps you. You’d rather be at the convent, would you? Eating porridge and trudging through mud?” 

Her eyes flew up at him, her face registering surprise at his audaciousness. “I quite like the way mud feels underfoot!” she responded. He loved that she was challenging him now, when dejected and frightened only moments before. 

“Maybe you’ll be sent back to the nuns, for misbehaving.” He was too bold for his own good… 

“You’re cheeky.” 

“And you’re upset than more than your dog taking a jaunt into the wild. What is it?” Had she seen the sacrifices… 

“You should ask your brother.” 

_Francis. Of course._ “Ask him what?” 

“Why he’s such a moody, arrogant arse.” _Well, who was the bastard now?_

“We’re half brothers by the way. Nothing in common but our father, really.” _And perhaps an interest in flighty women._

“Oh.” It was starting to dawn on Mary that she was intrigued by this other son. 

“But I’ll mention your discontent to Francis.” 

“Don’t bother,” she responded now. She was studying him, he realized. 

“And I’ll find your dog.” 

She looked at him now, her eyes grateful, nodding quietly at him. They walked the rest of the journey back in silence. Sebastian led the way, but he kept his eye on the young queen. She had surprised him, he realized. She was not some fussy little girl, the way he imagined most royals were. Instead, Mary was stubborn and undisciplined. Bash’s mind flashed back to the servant, who jokingly dangled Francis’s title in front of him. Maybe he was on to something. 

Finally, a view of the castle emerged. “Thank goodness!” Mary breathed. She glanced back at the forest, relieved to have escaped, and she owed it all to Bash. If he hadn’t rescued her… She shivered at the thought. “What’s in those woods?” she asked curiously. 

“It doesn’t matter,” he told her, sounding distant. “You are safe now.” 

He watched her walk ahead, and hated how alone he suddenly felt. He wished she had been a haughty, brainless princess. Not this captivating, wild girl. He would have to keep his distance. 

Mary made her way back toward the castle, and soon realized that Sebastian was no longer following her. It was too bad. His defiant nature was starting to grow on her.

**Author's Note:**

> ;)


End file.
